10. South Uist & Barra

On Tuesday 31st August we packed up and bid farewell to Otters Edge, the owner, a keen wildlife photographer, telling us all about two otter families and other wild beasts. We headed east into the breeze along the B892 before rejoining the A865 southeast to the south coast of Benbecula and the causeway across to South Uist. The first 5km of South Uist were dead flat, but the mountains of Thacla and Ben Mhor breaking the horizon 15 km to the south. Before long we crossed another causeway at Loch Bi, past the hamlet of Geirinis, and to our left the Lady of the Isles statue 80 m above the road, marking the change from historically protestant communities to the north to catholic further south. We met a solo cyclist heading north who had suffered midge bites all over his legs in the earlier light winds, and once more felt lucky to have had the wind on our backs almost the whole way down.

Another flat, easy 6 km south with a fair tail wind, we passed multiple lochs on either side, and then followed the Hebridean Way west on a minor road back to the coast.

Machair shell sand meadows lead us down to white sand beaches, and an old VW camper van just setting off. Passing one breezy beach facing northwest we found its neighbour to the south nicely sheltered and a perfect spot for lunch, with our backs against the grassy bank at the edge of the narrow beach. We joyfully tucked into local smoked salmon and oatcakes as the sun began to shine.

Over lunch, Robbie phoned a friend’s Dad who lives on South uist, and had kindly offered use of a kayak. A trip out this evening might just be possible is we could make it to the south coast on time.

By 2pm we were trundling south once more into the sun past wild flower meadows, little lochs and heather banks. It was blissful cycling along the narrow paved road without a car to be seen.

After half an hour we rejoined the A865, still nearly traffic free, and came across the Kildonan Museum and Pictish burial cairn site, a large long boat standing proudly in front. Robbie was also treated to a description of the French MacDonalds, a family who played a key role in the events of 1746, when, following the defeat of Culloden, Prince Charles Edward Stuart took refuge in the Hebrides. For nearly two months, Neil MacDonald hid the Royal fugitive and ensured his famous crossing “Over the Sea to Skye” with Flora MacDonald.

5 minutes later we passed a cairn of remembrance to Flora MacDonald, born in South Uist in 1722. On 28 June 1746, and her Irish maid (Bonnie Prince Charlie) sailed from Benbecula over the sea to Skye. Flora married in Skye, and then emigrated to North Carolina, where her husband fought for the British in the American War of Independence. After some time in Nova Scotia, they eventually returned home to Skye.

We continued south past lochs, crofts and catholic shrines for another 5km, turning off the A road at Daliburgh west towards the sea, after stopping briefly for supplies at a Coop. The map showed the Hebridean walking route following a track along the coast, but closer inspection showed the track to be a bit too patagonian for comfort and we decided to follow the minor road cycle route inland, passing an interesting mix of old and modern crofts and bungalows.

5 miles later, we rejoined the main road at Loch Trosaraidh and passed a striking catholic church of the same name, followed by fields of highland cattle.

2 km later we reached the south coast with beautiful views across the Sound of Barra in glorious evening sun. Arriving at the West Kilbride campsite, we pitched tent and let Xander’s parents know of our arrival. No time later, Xander’s Dad, Steven, arrived in scrubs with the inflatable kayak, which we proceeded to pump up for our maiden voyage. Steven pointed out an island, some way in the distance, which apparently we could pop to and back easily before sunset. We nodded enthusiastically, thanked him very much as returned to work and set off.

It occurred to us that the island crossing would not normally be undertaken after a full day of cycling, with a brisk offshore wind and before dinner, and deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, undertook a gentle pootle one bay along the shore and back.

The next day was glorious with lighter winds and we decided to rest, write some blog, call parents and enjoy the beautiful little beach opposite our tent. A cyclist setting off north on the Way came by the campsite with a flat tyre and no pump on his hire bike, and no idea how to fix it. We showed him how with our pump, and recommended he ask the hire shop to provide a pump before going north. The afternoon we ventured into the water for a swim after toasting ourselves as much as possible on a rock by the water’s edge. We managed our longest swim yet in chilly but gin-clear water. We initially cursed a lack of goggles, but found we could happily open eyes underwater and see reasonably well without them and without much stinging. Incredible with the sand underfoot.

That evening we cycled around the corner to the Polochar Inn to try our luck for food, but we were unsurprised to find it fully booked. We were at least able to buy a bottle of beer and return to the campsite for pasta dinner.

Thursday dawned cloudy and we decided to book the ferry from Oban to Port Askaig on Islay for Saturday. It was a difficult decision and meant missing out Mull, Loch Lomond, the Trossachs and Glasgow. But we decided Mull was best saved for its own trip, and central Scotland would require too many midge evenings and busy roads for our liking. Heading south by ferry also kept open the possibility of Lands End, swinging it for us just.

Oban is a single 6 hour ferry from Barra (at the south end of the Outer Hebrides), and leaves early enough that we could get the ferry to Islay on the same day, so making 135 km progress south in a single day with barely a pedal. Barra was a 40 minute ferry from Eriskay, a short cycle from our campsite over a causeway from South Uist.

Before the 1pm ferry to Barra, we had time for a quick look east to Glendale, where Steven had told us of opportunities to walk out to islands at low tide to collect shellfish. Alas the tide and time was against us, but it was nice to see the bay. We backtracked to the causeway and crossed to Eriskay, the inspiration for Compton MacKenzie’s book, Whisky Galore, when the SS Politician was wrecked in 1941, laden with 260,000 bottles of whisky. The island’s supplies of whisky had dried up due to war-time rationing, so the islanders periodically helped themselves to some of the whisky before winter weather broke up the ship. Boats came from as far away as Lewis as news of the whisky travelled across the Outer Hebrides.

Eriskay gave us our first climb for a good few days, 57m, enough to wake up some leg muscles as we passed plenty of cyclists setting off north for their Hebradean adventures. We waited briefly on the beach with some tea and cake, hearing some intriguing banging noises coming from the ferry and watching a woman paddle board her dog in the bay, who promptly came and stole some of our cake once ashore.

On the ferry we met an older solo cyclist who gave us tips for Barra and Vatersay to the south. On arrival at Ardmhor, we had lunch by the ferry terminal and then cycled north to see the northern beaches, one of which famous for hosting Barra’s airfield. Robbie bashed his knee on a gate, and we decided to backtrack south and west to some camping options on the west coast.

We crossed the island east-west on the A888, another 56m hill past the Barra church of Scotland, then south along the west coast to Borve. A couple of camping options here looked OK and we continued into Castlebay for supplies and look around. We were welcomed by clouds of midges, and hurried to Cafe Kismul to enquire about an evening meal. They too were fully booked tonight and tomorrow, so we retreated to the local Coop, via a youth hostel which was unattended, and then back to Borve.

A slight breeze here kept the worst of the midges off, as the campsite owner told us about lobster potting, and a pod of dolphins appeared just offshore. Tent up we cooked burritos and showered. A late arrival from Germany battled with her tent against the midges: we offered help but another camper sufficed.

Friday morning, after a relaxing start we packed a light day-pannier and headed south to Vatersay, climbing up to the merchant navy war memorial (52 masl), over the causeway and to the wreckage of a Catalina long-range patrol plane, which got lost and crashed in 1944.

Skirting Chornaig Bay, we soon arrived at the true starting point of the Hebridean Way. After a short photo stop we continued to Vatersay village, passing a bull roaming freely but peacefully across the east coast dunes, and the end of the road, a jetty surrounded by crab shell detritus. We lunched amongst the west coast dunes of Siar Bay and rescued a bumble bee from the incoming tide.

Riding back north, we spent more time at the plane wreck before the return to Barra, climb up and over to Castlebay for a visit to the Barra distillery, whose local seaweed-infused gin is excellent. A plate of chips nearby and pop into a wholefood store, and we returned to the campsite in good time. Some time was passed scrambling over the rocks/pools looking for a swimming spot which wasn’t easily possible, before an early dinner of salmon leek cream cheese pasta, ready for the 7am ferry tomorrow morning.